Night draped the Wind Clan like silk woven from deep indigo.
Though the moon hung low and veiled behind sheer clouds, the city refused to sleep.
Lanterns shaped like floating blossoms drifted above silvered walkways, pulsing with wind-aspected mana that bathed the rooftops in soft green and blue hues.
The air shimmered faintly with enchantments and night wardings—beauty and security entwined.
Laughter echoed from alley bars and open-sky lounges. Mana-clad couples danced through elevated glass bridges suspended between spire-like buildings, their joy framed by the whispering wind.
Neon sigils blinked from club facades, promising music, mirth, or whatever trouble one sought. And in the midst of it all—hidden in motion—a shadow raced across the heights.
A small tigress, no bigger than a juvenile, bolted silently across rooftops. Her body was made of pure black lightning, a stunning contrast to the calm pastel light of the Wind Clan's outer estate.
